


Jagged Edges

by prolix (shal)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angry rambling, Angst, Drama, Established Relationship, Features a very mutilated roast dinner, Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Harry rambles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of past child abuse, POV Draco Malfoy, Petunia Dursley is the worst, Wait that's called ranting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 19:49:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18835573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shal/pseuds/prolix
Summary: Harry invites his Aunt Petunia over for dinner and is left disappointed...again. Draco is left to deal with the aftermath.





	Jagged Edges

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my beta, [Vany](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanyKruemelPendragon/pseuds/VanyKruemelPendragon)! Any remaining mistakes are my own. This fic was inspired by [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PI4Mv8R0mE0&t=152s) scene from "The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air."

A slow-dawning horror, thick and suffocating, began to fill Draco’s chest at a quarter-past seven. Petunia Dursley was _late_.

Draco was nestled into one of the armchairs in their sitting room, ears straining for any sign of Petunia’s arrival: a quiet knock on the front door or even the rumbling of a Muggle taxi from the street below. All he could hear, though, was Harry bustling through their kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the roast he’d slaved away like a House-Elf to make because, _“It’s Aunt Petunia’s favorite, Draco, I have to.”_

Draco did not particularly want to invite Petunia to their flat in the first place. He had listened, teeth clenched and stomach churning, to Harry’s stories about the cupboard under the stairs and his barred bedroom window. If it were up to Draco, Harry would never have to see Petunia again. Harry, on the other hand, seemed to lack Draco’s long memory, and when they’d run into his aunt at the Muggle market, he invited her over with barely a second thought.

The only problem was that Harry’s newly beloved “Aunt Petunia” was running late, and if Draco had learned anything from Harry’s stories about her, Petunia Dursley would risk her life to avoid being late. 

Harry walked out of the kitchen, cheeks flushed from the heat of the kitchen, and asked, “Has she arrived yet?”

“Not yet, love,”

Harry’s smile tightened a fraction before he sat down on the couch across from Draco, “Oh, alright, I’ve just cast a _Stasis_ charm on the roast, anyways.”

“She’s probably stuck in traffic,” offered Draco, though he was sure Harry could hear the lie in his voice, “You know how it can be at this hour…”

They settled into silence after that, turning on the television to distract themselves from waiting. Some mind-numbing Muggle program was on and it took Draco’s mind off the inevitable storm that seemed to be slowly encroaching upon their calm. Eventually though, when even the television wasn’t enough to keep them from casting a _Tempus_ every few minutes, they turned it off—leaving them to stew in silence. Half an hour passed, and then another and another. Draco, with claws of pity beginning to dig themselves into the pit of his stomach, found himself watching Harry, who had taken to pacing back and forth between the kitchen and sitting room to renew his _Stasis_ charms on their dinner.

“Harry, love,” Draco managed to choke out after Harry’s fifth trip back into the kitchen, “I don’t think she’s coming.”

Harry spun on his heel and stepped back into the sitting room, his hair a mess from running his hands through it and his breaths shaky. All he did was stare at Draco, as if moving would destroy the fragile semblance of quiet strength he’d been clinging onto for the greater part of the night.

“I’m sorry, Harry.”

Suddenly, Harry broke. He spun and stormed into the kitchen. Draco rose from his chair in the blink of an eye and followed him in.  


“You know what? It’s absolutely _fine!_ We can finally eat the roast, yeah? More for us!”

“It’s okay to be upset,” began Draco when he saw Harry grab one of the carving knives laying on the counter. For a brief moment, Draco thought Harry was truly going to serve himself a slice of the roast—the sight of which suddenly made Draco’s blood boil, for its presence reminded him of Petunia’s absence—he’d made. He was pleasantly surprised to find that Harry had plans to angrily mutilate it instead. 

“—No, why should I be? I should’ve known this was going to happen, right? I just wish I hadn’t spent so much time. On. This. Fucking. Roast!” shouted Harry, punctuating his words by stabbing said roast. He put the knife down and turned to look at Draco, his gaze almost unbearably penetrating. “But, you know what, Draco? I don’t need her!”

“You don’t,” was all Draco could come up with in response.

“I don’t,” echoed Harry, his voice suddenly hoarse and coated in false bravado, “I’m not six years old anymore, crying for her in my fucking cupboard because I had a bad dream. She wasn’t there for that, anyways! She wasn’t there to send me off to Hogwarts or to buy me new robes or to write to when Voldemort set out to kill me again and again and again. I learned how to deal with that by myself. I fought in a War without her! I saved the Wizarding World without her! Because she was never. Fucking. There!”

Draco stepped forward, holding Harry’s gaze, and murmured, “You did, love, you survived.”

“And now I get to do more than survive. I get to surround myself with people who come to dinner, who love me, who aren’t afraid of me. Did you know she’s always been afraid of me? Of magic? That’s why she hates me so much. The magic. Can you imagine that, Draco? Being afraid of a bloody infant because of _magic_ …” The other man’s rambling voice had adopted an edge that was nearly hysterical in nature. He stood, hands braced against the counter, head bent downwards, chest heaving with exertion.

Draco walked up behind him and wrapped his arms around the other man’s waist, pulling him back to press against his own chest. His mouth at Harry’s ear, he whispered, “You deserve more, Harry.”

“I do... but, Draco, I'm family. _Why doesn’t she care about me?_ ” The words slipped from Harry’s mouth, cracked and thick with emotion. He crumpled in Draco’s arms, his knees buckling as sobs overtook him. Draco tightened his arms around him, his body curving forward around the other man as if he could shield him from the outside world. As if he could smooth over Harry’s exposed jagged edges with his love.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are very much appreciated! <3
> 
> Feel free to come find me on [Tumblr](https://prolix-.tumblr.com/)!


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